Unbreakable
by detective-jay-rizzoli
Summary: "They saw me as Jane, the therapist of therapists. Of course this is a title that does not really describe what I do, I'm pretty sure none of my therapists really welcome my method of opening up for them." Jane breaks therapists. Until the mental hospital believes it is time for help from the outside. Help in the form of renowned therapist Doctor Maura Isles. Eventual Rizzles. AU
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Hey, Guys! I decided to start writing another multi-chapter fic! It's about Jane in a mental hospital. Maura will be introduced into later chapters and it will be Rizzles eventually. I hope you like it!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters and stuff._

"Hey J, you coming to interpretive art this afternoon?" My 'friend' asks me. In here no one actually has friends. Well, maybe some people do. But I don't. I don't really see the appeal in becoming friends with people that are all mentally unstable. And that's exactly what everyone in here is. Including me, technically. But I'm different. I'm not here because I'm sick. I'm here because apparently the doctor and my parents believe that someone who tried to kill herself and is 'not showing any signs of regret' is a danger to herself and should therefore be under supervision at all times.

"No, man. I have therapy. Apparently doctor Buckley finally has a spot or something." I mumble between bites of my rather tasteless breakfast. Johnny snickers a bit. I smirk and raise an eyebrow.

"That took them pretty long. Then again, after speaking to the other therapists that 'treated' you" He forms quotation marks with his fingers. "…I wouldn't be too keen on being your therapist either." Johnny finishes his sentence. I smirk again and punch his shoulder before standing up.

"Well, I should get going. Wouldn't want to be late for my first appointment."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

I had trained myself to see every little detail a room had to offer the second I entered it. It was a form of self-protection, preparing myself for anything that could happen. So when I walk into the room of my therapist, I see everything. The room is quite small. There are bookshelves on both sides of the room, filled with books of which I can't read the titles. A big oak-wood desk stands in the middle of the room, my shrink sitting behind it. On the other side there's a comfortable-looking armchair, which I assume is where I am supposed to sit. My eyes sweep over the desk to examine the pictures and papers that are lying on top of it. After the room was completely explored, I sit down in the arm-chair and stare at my therapist for a while. After a little while a little smile breaks through my features. It is filled with confidence. I had found what I was searching for.

"Hello, I am doctor Buckley. You are Jane, aren't you?" Doctor Buckley asks with a friendly voice. It makes me feel like a child. I raise an eyebrow at her before nodding. Inside I snicker at the similarity to my first three therapists.

"Okay, why are you here, Jane?" Doctor Buckley questions sweetly. My smirk doesn't falter. I know exactly how to handle this. I am experienced, confident, I know what I'm doing.

"I don't really want to talk about that." I say. Of course I don't. But the key is to make it sound just a little bit uncomfortable, even though I'm not. And of course, it works. It always does.

"What **do** you want to talk about, then?" My smile widens almost imperceptibly. I can't believe that the other therapists hadn't told her about the way I work. They could have prepared her for me, but they chose not to. Their own desire to be better than others had stopped them from protecting this innocent woman.

"To be honest there's not a lot that I want to talk about." I still play the vulnerable little girl, which can't be that convincing since I'm a 5"9 35-year old woman. But then again, I've seen plenty of woman that were crying like babies when they came out of this very room or one of the others in the hallway this door was linked to.

"Is there anything I can do to make it easier for you to talk?" Doctor Buckley asks me calmly. God, this is so easy.

"Well, I just really don't like to be the patient. Or you know, to not be on equal levels." I mumble, looking down at my hands. I am thankful for the long, brown curls that fall past my face and successfully hide the huge smirk that plays around my lips. Doctor Buckley just looks at me and nods thoughtfully.

"What do you suggest can be done about that?" Doctor Buckley asks. I pretend to look thoughtful for about 30 seconds. After this I force an excited look onto my face.

"I could diagnose you!" I near-yell. Doctor Buckley smiles like she is looking at a child which is exactly what all the other therapists had done.

"What do you mean?" Doctor Buckley says with an amused tone. It's funny how they always think they have the upper hand until I show them that they don't.

"I ask you 3 questions which you have to answer. Afterwards, I will tell you who I think you are and what is going on in your life!" I say with the same childlike excitement I had before.

"Okay." She says softly. I could hear the amusement in her voice and my smile widens a bit. They always fall for it. But now comes the hard part. Of course there is quite a chance that doctor Buckley will no longer want to be my therapist after this session, but I can't take the risk. So I don't.

"You don't think I can do it, do you?" I say. Doctor Buckley smiles that amused smirk again.

"I just think that it would be quite impressive. 3 questions isn't a lot, you know."

"I know. But I'm really good."

"I bet you are."

"stop treating me like a child." I make it sound mildly angry, but not so much as to make her suspect that I am, in fact, dangerous.

"I'm not treating you like a child."

"Wanna bet?"

"Bet that I'm not treating you like a child?"

"No, I bet that I would be able to diagnose you." I say, looking confident, but not as confident as I am. Doctor Buckley looks at me and nods for me to continue.

"If you win, if my diagnose is wrong, I will answer any question you have. If I win, there will be no more sessions with you." I say. Doctor Buckley is quite surprised from this change in behaviour, I can tell. But I know she's not going to back down now. I'm too interesting. Too interesting of a case to pass up.

"Ask away." She says. And it starts.

"When did you move here?"

"Right after I got married, about 7 years ago." I nod and think for a second. Of course I notice that she fidgets with her wedding ring.

"Okay. Since when have you been working here?"

"Since two months." I nod. That explains her not knowing of me. I know for a fact that none of the other therapists had put anything in my file. All of them only put that I was unwilling to talk. I point towards one of three pictures on doctor Buckley's desk.

"That woman on the picture. When was the last time you saw her?" I can see that this question throws doctor Buckley off. I knew it would.

"about two months ago." Her voice wavers almost imperceptibly. I close my eyes for a few seconds, open them and look around for a couple more and then nod again.

"Okay." I say. Doctor Buckley looks confused.

"Okay what?" She asks confusedly. I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. People can be so stupid.

"Okay I have a diagnosis." I can tell that she hadn't expected this. Of course she didn't. But she recovers and says:

"Shoot." I waggle my eyebrows once before starting. First, I gesture at the three framed pictures on the desk.

"I assume those are your children?" I say, pointing at a picture of two kids who look perfectly alike and about 6 years old.

"And that's your husband." There is no question in this since the next picture is of her and a guy sitting very close, his arm slung around her waist and her head rested on his shoulder while the guy gazes lovingly at her.

"Now let's get to the real stuff. You moved here about 7 years ago. You found a job and that is exactly where you met her." I point at the last picture, doctor Buckley together with another woman. The one I had asked about earlier. They are sitting next to each other, both of them smiling up at the camera. Buckley seems a bit taken aback by this theory.

"I know that you met her there, since you are both in what are obviously your work clothes. That was easy." I state nonchalantly. Buckley calms down a bit and nods. I smirk. The bad part is yet to come.

"You guys became friends. Best friends even. You even became so close that you were one of the first people she came out to. It took her a couple of months, maybe even years of friendship. But eventually she told you that she was gay. And you're tolerant, so why wouldn't you be okay with it? Or at least, that's what she thought. But you got angry. You got angry because you are a married woman and if she would never have told you that she was gay you would have never had to acknowledge all of these things that she made you feel. You could always just say that no matter how much you were attracted to her, in love with her even, she was straight anyway. There was never a chance for you so you didn't have to think about taking one. But she wasn't straight, was she? She was gay. And she told you. But you didn't tell her that you were in love with her, you just told her that you were disgusted by it. That she would go to hell even though to you, she was heaven. You drove her away so that you wouldn't have to deal with being close to her. And now you're left all alone with your husband who you probably realized you don't love as much as you do her and your kids who you don't want to grow up in a broken marriage. But you can't really fix something that's shattered and so you're torn. Because even if you would leave him, you wouldn't get her because you were terrible to her. So what's the point then, anyway? If you can't have her, wouldn't it be okay to just be with him for a little longer? But on the other hand, you want him to be with someone who loves him as much as he loves her. You want to be selfless and let him go so that he can be happy, but you can't just let him leave you because you're afraid that you would never survive. And if someone were to really, honestly ask you how you felt? You would say 'I don't know.' You would say 'I don't know how I feel.' Because if you were completely honest with yourself, all you really feel is longing for her. And this emptiness in the place where your heart used to be before she ripped it out of your chest with her bare hands." I end my little speech just as casually as I begun it. Like I hadn't just told my psychiatrist that I know of her love towards her best friend or her desire to leave her husband.

"How?" Is the only word doctor Buckley is able to choke out in between small sobs.

"It's easy, really. The gay thing? She looks gay. Anyone with even a little bit of a gaydar would be able to see that. But she does do some things to try to hide it on that picture, which was probably taken about 6 months ago, based on aging and stuff like that. So I assumed that she hadn't told a lot of people. The love thing? Come on, sweetie. Your eyes flit to that picture about every 3 seconds. And after you look at her, you always glance apologetically towards the picture with your husband. That wasn't that hard, either. How I knew that you drew her away? You haven't slept well. In fact, you haven't slept well in a couple of weeks. I would say about two months, if I am not mistaken. Which is coincidentally exactly how long you've been without her and also just a little longer than the time you have been working here, if I'm not mistaken. Now, why would you leave a job where you were able to work so close to your best friend for a job where you make less money and which you clearly like a lot less than your first job? To run away from something. Based on the longing look in your eyes each time you look at her picture, I think it's quite safe to say that you haven't seen her in a little while, which is weird since she's your best friend and you're both living in the same city. So you're fighting. And you ran away. Not her, but you. So I assume that you feel guilty and didn't want to have to face her. But she didn't come after you. She didn't try to contact you because you would definitely have given in. This leaves only a couple more options. You either got hurt by her, changed your and all your family's names so she couldn't find you and moved to another place in Salem or you drove her away by doing or saying something that would make her feel like you didn't want to be around her. I went with the most logical thing." Doctor Buckley now has large streams of tears running down her face and is busy pulling her legs up onto the chair and wrapping her arms around them.

"The part about you and your husband was also confirmed when you looked at the pictures so much. You may have looked a little guilty at watching her picture so much, but the expression towards the picture of your husband was definitely not regret. It was guilt and apology. But you don't regret the feelings you have for her, which you would if you would have loved him the same way you love her." Doctor Buckley doesn't answer, but is quietly whispering to herself.

"I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry" It's like a mantra. I smile sadly at her. But then I get up, look around and nod, putting on a confident smile.

"So, I guess we're done here?" I say softly. When I get no reply, I simply walk out of the door. Another psychiatrist broken. Another session in which I didn't break.

_A/N: I hope you liked it. Next chapter will be posted after the holidays!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hey guys! Here I am with another chapter. I hope you guys like it. Flashbacks are in __**bold italics. **__Okay have fun reading!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything else related to the show._

"_**Janie! Janie is waking up! MOM!" The voice sounds familiar. I grunt and move my head around a bit. I hear stumbling next to me and sigh, knowing I'll have to open my eyes soon. I grunt again and slowly open my eyes before closing them again.**_

"_**The… Light" I somehow manage to say. My voice is raspy and raw. I open my eyes a little bit again and the light has already gotten less bright. I blink a couple of times before registering the other familiar voice that has been talking to me since my eyes have opened the first time.**_

"… _**So glad you're finally awake. You can never do something like that again, do you understand? I don't even… I don't e-even understand w-why…" Who I now remember is my mother trails off and starts to cry. I have no idea what is happening. I look at what I realize is my brother. I raise my eyebrows in question but he looks so pained that I just focus back on my mother.**_

"_**Where am I?" I croak. My throat still hurts, but I get the question out anyway.**_

"_**You don't remember?" Ma asks. She sounds a little bit relieved, but I can also hear the horrified undertone. I don't even try to remember and just shake my head.**_

"_**Y-you tried…" Ma starts crying too hard to finish what she is trying to say, so Frankie finishes it for her.**_

"_**You tried to kill yourself, Jane." He says grimly. And just like that I remember everything. I remember feeling so exhausted from always pretending to be okay. From always having to put up a façade of happiness and amusement. But it backfired. It was one single moment of weakness and now I am here and everyone knows that I am not okay and they will always see me as sick and messed up and someone that needs to be taken care off. But I can still save myself. I can still go back to being funny and sarcastic as opposed to dramatic and depressed. I just have to try a little harder. Ma's voice breaks through my thoughts.**_

"_**Why did you do it, Jane?" She asks desperately. **_

"_**I-I don't know, Ma. It was an accident. But I'm okay now. I swear. I don't even know what happened. It was a heat of the moment thing. I didn't take time to think. I'm sorry. But I'm okay now." My mother doesn't look convinced.**_

"_**So who do you have to shag around here to get some food?" I try to joke. Of course even I know that this is not the time for jokes, but I want to make my family see that nothing changed. I'm still the same old me, even if I never really were her to begin with. Judging on the looks Ma and Frankie are giving me, it's not working. **_

**XXXXXXXX**

One of the only good things about the mental hospital is that they are underemployed and therefore do not pay a lot of attention to you if you're not a special case. Of course my schedule is quite busy with all of the mandatory relaxing bullshit-classes and the creative writing-shit, but since it always takes a couple of weeks for the hospital to set me up with a new therapist I do have a couple of hours a week without something to do. At those times, I find myself at the roof of the hospital. The roof is completely surrounded by a giant fence, making it unable for anyone to throw themselves off of it. But that's not even why I go there. I go there because it's quiet. Because it's calm and completely free of everything stressful. Inside the hospital, there's not a single quiet room. Even in my own room, the sounds from the hallway bounce against every wall. So I come here and I sit with my back against the wall and I stare at all the people that drive by and I think about what it would be like if I just got my life back. I would be able to go back to my work as a homicide detective. I could see my partners again and bicker with them. Solve cases and catch murderers. I would be able to have dinner with my family again every Sunday night like I used to do before I attempted to put an end to my existence. These fleeting moments on the roof of this god-forsaken mental hospital were the only times where I showed any of the emotion that I held in at any other given moment. These were the only times where I felt like I **could **let myself go a little bit. But then my time would be up and I would go back inside and I'd be back to being Jane Rizzoli, the one that cracks counsellors.

And oh, how that title defines me in here. After I had my first session and someone saw the therapist crying when they went in there for their appointment and were sent away, people got curious. They started asking me questions. I didn't elaborate at the time, not seeing the point in bragging about making people cry. But after the second time people got a lot more persistent and eventually I just told Johnny what had happened. He told his friends and somehow 2 days later there wasn't a person in the mental hospital that didn't know of 'Jane, the destroyer of therapists'. People told stories about me. Some said that I'd kicked my therapist's ass and there were others saying that I was in here because I killed two people(which seems a bit stupid since I wouldn't be here, I would be in prison). I remember thinking it would never stop. People would always be whispering behind my back and be too scared to actually say anything to my face. But then there was the third therapist. The one before doctor Buckley. Doctor Anderson. God, what an asshole he was. But I broke him. I immediately saw all of the insecurities that spurred him to be the huge asshole he was. I laid them out for him and somehow it helped him more than it destroyed him. He became nicer, friendlier. Of course there was still the deal and even if there hadn't been I don't know if he would have still wanted to treat me. But the other patients were pleasantly surprised by his kinder approach. And after three days people started coming up to me, asking me what I'd done. I told them that I'd opened his eyes to what he had been refusing to see. And the rumours stopped. People no longer saw me as some sort of likable super-villain. They started seeing me as Jane, the therapist of therapists. Of course this is a title that does not really describe what I do, because I'm pretty sure none of my therapists really welcome my method of opening up for them. But I like it better than the destroyer part, so I let them call me whatever they want.

But I never fit in. I never fit in because even after 3 months I still don't see myself as a mentally unstable person. I don't fit in because I'm **not **a mentally unstable person. So the days go by just like the ones before. I get up and go to sleep. I attend my group therapy sessions, always remaining quiet. I eat and shower and train and do everything I'm supposed to do, but I never really live. And I doubt that I will live again as long as I'm in here.

_A/N: Hope you liked it! I will be introducing Maura in a chapter or two, I think :)_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Hi! This chapter is chock-full of dialogue, so I hope you guys like it. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything else related to the show._

"_**A MENTAL HOSPITAL?" I scream it at her like she just told me she'd be sending me to prison. Basically she was. I had been laying in the hospital-bed consciously for 4 days. It turns out I was in a coma for a week. The last four days had been dedicated to rebuilding my walls, which was working pretty well, if you ask me. But now here comes my mother to tell me that I'm going to a mental hospital. Against my will.**_

"_**I am an adult. You can't just send me to a mental hospital against my will!" I yell. My mother tries to calm me down unsuccessfully.**_

"_**Yes, I can since you're a danger to yourself. You need supervision Jane. You need therapy."**_

"_**I don't need therapy."**_

"_**Yes, you do." My mother states. I just snort and cross my arms over my chest. I know I must look like a petulant child, but I can't help it. I'm angry and frustrated yet there's nothing I can do about my situation.**_

"_**If the therapist feels like you're ready to go home, you'll be out in no time." Ma says. I don't answer, choosing instead to look out of the window. A mental hospital. I hate it already.**_

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

"We found another therapist for you." My doctor says. I look up from the ground. It's been 5 weeks since doctor Buckley.

"About freaking time." I mumble. The doctor whose name I've already forgotten looks up and pulls a disapproving face.

"I don't know what you did to the others, but it won't work this time." He says so full of confidence that I'm almost afraid of who this mystery therapist will be. Almost.

"I doubt that." I say. "Who is it?" I then add. Johnny knows almost every single person in the hospital and he also knows which therapist they go to. Background information is always useful.

"She doesn't work in the hospital. They hired her. Her name is Dr Isles."

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

My first appointment with Dr Isles is on a Wednesday. Exactly 40 days after doctor Buckley. She's using one of the offices that are usually empty, the ghosts of therapists that were fired because of budget cuts still lingering in every corner. But I am confident. I can still break her. I lock my jaw and tense up. I open the door. I freeze. I think I'm in the wrong room. What is sitting behind that mahogany desk is most definitely not my therapist. Because if she is not an angel, sent by god, then god clearly made the wrong choices. She is perfect. Oh no, breaking her is the last thing on my mind right now. But I shake my head and focus on what I **have **to do. She's making me feel way too vulnerable and one session with this is more than enough. I shake my head again and re-lock my jaw since it had fallen open at the sight of this exquisite creature. I'm ready.

"Hello Mrs. Rizzoli. I'm Dr Isles." She says kindly. I nod.

"Do you want to talk about why you're in here?" She asks me. I shake my head.

"Not really." I mumble. Doctor Isles seems to study my face for a second. It makes me slightly uncomfortable.

"Okay. I see here that you tried to commit suicide about three months ago?" She states it in the same tone someone would talk about the weather. It makes me feel even more uncomfortable.

"Wow. You really do get right into it, huh?" I mumble while I wiggle in my chair. I chuckle a little bit.

"I don't see the point in stalling something that is inevitable." The way she says it makes me feel like it's not directed at me, but I can't shake the feeling that what she says **does **apply to me.

"Right." I say, maybe a little too harshly.

"Can you give me an idea of what you told the other therapists?" She asks me while looking at my file. "There's not a lot of information in this file." She adds. I grin mischievously.

"I didn't tell them anything." I say, before adding, "Not about me, anyway."

"Then what did you tell them?" Doctor Isles asks me without looking up from my file.

"I diagnosed them."

"You… diagnosed them?" She looks up while asking this. I nod.

"Why?" Doctor Isles asks me curiously.

"It makes me more comfortable." I say, making my voice just that bit more vulnerable.

"Then why aren't they treating you anymore?"

"Part of the deal." I say against my will. I know I shouldn't have told her about the other therapists. But I can't help it. It's hard to keep secrets from someone so breath-taking.

"What deal?"

"If I diagnose them correctly, I get another therapist." I grumble. I look at my hands. I know that if I looked at her, I would stop. I would stop talking and breathing and pretty much do anything. I would freeze and be unable to do anything but look. Try to memorize every little line of her face. Try to imagine what it would be like to be able to run my hands through her honey-blonde hair. So I don't look. I keep my eyes trained on my fidgeting hands.

"Why would you want that?" She sounds sincerely surprised. Like she can honestly not understand why someone wouldn't want to talk to a therapist.

"I don't like therapists." I say. It's not true. It used to be. Before I saw her. It's impossible not to like her. After 4 minutes of silence I look up. Doctor Isles is watching me closely. Thoughtfully.

"Okay. You can diagnose me."

"what?"

"You can diagnose me."

"Um, okay." I look around. No pictures. Of course not, she doesn't even work here. That's a problem, alright. I also have zero background information since there is not a single patient in the hospital that she has treated. So the only thing I have is her facial expressions and her body language. I focus on every line on her perfect pale face, but I get nothing. She's schooling her features perfectly. Professional. No ring so most likely not married. Her designer shoes, stylish dress and immaculate make-up suggest that she's got money to blow. Usually therapists don't make enormous amounts of money but seeing that she's been specially hired to treat me, she's probably better than other therapists. So basically the only thing I can tell her is that she's good at her job, most likely not married and that she may or may not be from a rich family. In other words, nothing.

"I-" I start, but my voice gets cut off by the only thing on the desk besides my file. An alarm clock. Our session is over. I stand up and walk away. Doctor Isles yells after me, but I ignore her. I need to get away from this. From her.

_A/N: Okay, hope you guys liked it!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything else related to the show._

"_**And here's your room, Mrs Rizzoli." The male nurse says. I'm not one to judge someone for working in a field that is dominated by the gender opposite of his or her own, seeing that I used to do the same as a homicide detective, but this guy doesn't really seem interested in anyone's mental health. He had been not-so-subtly checking out my (to be honest not very impressive) boobs for the past 10 minutes. **_

"_**Thanks." I mumble before pushing past him. He says a few more things about getting settled in and being able to pick up a schedule the next day before he walks away, leaving me to explore my room. Thank god I don't have a roommate and the single bed suggested that I won't have one in the future either. I look around the room. The bed is against the wall on your right when you enter the room. Besides the bed there's a dresser and a bookshelf, a little nightstand with an alarm-clock on it and a door to the tiny little bathroom. **_

"_**Seems okay." I mumble to myself. And it does. It seems okay. It does not seem like a place where I want to spend the next few months of my life, but then again, there's no place on earth that really does. But I can't think like that. For now, I just have to focus on rebuilding my walls and getting the hell out of here. **_

**XXXXXXXXX**

Tiny cars and tiny people and tiny buildings all part of this tiny town that I am no longer a part of. I think that was one of the hardest things to accept when I was admitted here. Not the fact that people thought that I had an altered mental state. Not that I wouldn't see my dog for a couple of months or that I would be stuck with no one but crazy people all day every day. It wasn't any of that. It was that I was no longer a part of the city. I was no longer a well-functioning member of society. I look down at a few people driving by.

"Being exposed to cold temperatures like this for an extended period of time can cause hypothermia, frostbite or other damages to your tissue." The soft voice makes my head snap up. Doctor Isles is standing in front of me, looking just as beautiful as she did the first time. I look at her for a few seconds before moving my gaze back to the people on the streets beneath me. I can see doctor Isles walking towards me out of the corner from my eye. I see her hesitating to sit down, so I put my jacket on the ground without watching.

"Why didn't you come to your appointment with me 20 minutes ago?" She asks without any accusation in her voice and I'm just sitting there thinking that she must be an angel because she came to find me. And if she came to find me does that mean that she can help me find myself, too? But I don't tell her this. I don't tell her that she's the first person I've met since I'm in here with who I feel the urge to tell her what had happened to me. She's the first person I want to ask what the hell is wrong with me and why the hell am I feeling this way. But I don't say any of those things.

"What do you care?" Is what I say. And I know that it's wrong from the almost wounded look on her face. And even though it only takes about 4 seconds for her to school her features back into the professional mask she normally sported, it still leaves a deep ball of guilt in my chest. **I hate you.** I whisper to myself inside my head.

"I'm your therapist. I'm supposed to improve your mental health, Jane." It's the first time she says my name and I already know that no matter what happens, my name will never sound as beautiful as it does with her voice wrapped around it.

"Yeah, well there's nothing wrong with my mental health." **Liar**. I whisper to myself inside my head. **You're sick and twisted and messed up and broken. **I add.

"Why are you still in here then?" doctor Isles asks calmly. I shrug.

"It's okay to not be okay. It's my job to talk to you about this." She says. I look up at her. I avert my gaze and look up at the sky.

"I was a homicide detective, you know." I say. I don't even know where this is coming from. My mouth is saying things that my mind hasn't even approved of yet. And still I feel better than I have in a long time. Doctor Isles just nods, urging me to keep talking. So I do.

"I was pretty good, actually. High closing rate. But then there was this case…" I stop and just stare at the clouds above us. It isn't like I was planning on telling doctor Isles about Hoyt, but it seems like I don't really have a choice.

"The MO was horrible. He targeted happy couples. He would tie the man up and rape the woman before his eyes. And then he killed them both." Doctor Isles seems sympathetic, but not surprised or disgusted.

"He was obsessed with me. I don't know why. It was probably the chase or something. But anyway, he kidnapped this girl and left enough clues for me to find out where he was. And he knew that I was too stubborn and impatient to wait for back-up. So I went in on my own. And I saw her lying there and I was so sure that I had saved her." I can feel the empty hole of emotion burning in my chest. It's the first time I am telling this to anyone.

"And then he came from behind me and hit me over the head with a 2x4. I woke up some time later." Doctor Isles put a hand on my arm for a second before retreating it again. It felt like the hole in my chest was filled and like my heart was trying to beat through my chest.

"I tried to get up. But Hoyt was watching me from the shadows and he launched himself at me and pinned me down. He drove scalpels through my hands." I say it like it's not a big deal. Like what he did isn't the worst thing anyone ever did to me. My voice doesn't even waver and my eyes don't even water. I don't even feel like I am talking about myself anymore. But I keep going. I hold up my hand and point to the scar.

"My partner came in just before-" My voice stops. It's not like I have to cry or anything. It just stops. I try again.

"Just before Hoyt-" I stop again. I look at doctor Isles helplessly. She finished my sentence for me.

"Before he could kill you" I nod. She puts her hand back on my arm and starts moving it up and down and I feel like I'm not as broken. I feel like maybe, just maybe, I can be okay again.

"Thank you." I rasp. She just nods and smiles.

"Will you be attending our next appointment?" I look up at her and I'm sure my face must be the image of surprise.

"Of course." I smile at her. Her face softens. Like she was afraid I'd say no. I don't think I could have.

"Good." She says. She stands up and walks away, smiling back at me once more before disappearing back into the building. Maybe I'm not lost. Maybe I can be found again.

_A/N: Hope you liked it!_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Hey! Here's the next chap I just want to let you guys know that the timeline in this fic? Yeah, it doesn't make any sense at all. I pretty much altered it so it would work better._

_Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. We would have gotten Rizzles a LONG time ago if they were._

"_**We miss you at work, you know." Korsak says. He adds an awkward chuckle to it. It annoys me.**_

"_**Why are you here?" I grumble. Korsak looks uncomfortably towards Frost. He just shakes his head a bit.**_

"_**Just because my mother told me what hospital I'm in doesn't mean you guys have to come visit me, you know." I say. I know that my mother told them. They still look surprised and a little bit guilty.**_

"_**We still would have come if she didn't tell us, Jane." Korsak argues.**_

"_**It's okay if you wouldn't have." I say. They don't answer. There's quiet all around but I'm okay with it. No matter how awkward silence can be, it always hurts less than words.**_

"_**Why did you do it?" Frost speaks up. It's the first time he's said anything since he came in. For a second it looks like Korsak wants to scold him for being inconsiderate, but then he just turns around and looks at me with matching curiosity. I sigh.**_

"_**It was an accident."**_

"_**Cut the crap, Jane. We all know it wasn't an accident. It wasn't a heat of the moment thing or whatever you want to call it." Korsak says harshly. But then his voice softens as he continues. "We love you, Jane. We all do and we want you to get better but the first step to healing is that you accept that you have to heal." I shake my head.**_

"_**I'm fine." I say and I grin at them. Korsak sighs and goes back to looking sympathetic. Frost looks incredulous. He doesn't speak as he stands up and walks away. Korsak looks at the closed door.**_

"_**I should go, too." I nod.**_

"_**See you later." I say. I have let them down. I have let everyone down. But I'm okay. I'm fine.**_

**XXXXXXXXX**

"Hello, Jane." Doctor Isles says cheerfully. It makes me smile even though I actually don't want to. Today is the first appointment since the night on the roof and to say I feel more relaxed than at my first appointment would be a severe understatement.

"How are you feeling today?" Doctor Isles asks me. I don't think. I say the one sentence that I've said more than a thousand times since I came here 4 and a half months ago.

"I'm fine."

"Just fine?" This question catches me more off guard than I'd like to admit. The thought that I would have to be feeling better than fine never even came to mind.

"I- I don't know?" I say. I really don't. Doctor Isles nods.

"Okay." She writes a couple of things down in a notebook.

"Can you tell me about your family?" She says. I nod and think for a bit.

"I'm the oldest of three. My two younger brothers are named Frankie and Tommy. My Pop left my Ma last year and she's living with Frankie for now." I say.

"Okay, are you on good terms with them?"

"I am with Frankie and Ma. They visit me every once in a while. I haven't seen my dad since he left my mother and my younger brother is in prison." I say. Doctor Isles looks a little intrigued by this.

"Why haven't you seen your dad?" She asks.

"He left my mother and ran away from his responsibilities. I don't want to speak to him." I say, locking my jaw for extra effect. Doctor Isles looks a little sympathetic. She writes a couple more things in her notebook.

"Okay. Do you like it when your mother and Frankie come to visit you?" She asks and it seems a little weird because everyone always just assumes that I love seeing my family.

"Not really." I answer truthfully. It feels so weird to let my walls down(even if it's just a little bit) around someone who I don't even know that well. Weird but liberating.

"Why not?" She asks curiously. I don't answer.

"Don't you like seeing them?" She pushes.

"Of course I do!" I say forcefully.

"Then why don't you like it when they visit?"

"Because I don't like being seen like this." I say, looking down at my fingers.

"Like what is that, exactly?" Doctor Isles says. I look up.

"you know, vulnerable." **Broken.** I add inside my head.

"They're your family. It can't possibly be the first time they're seeing you like that." She says comfortingly.

"It's not." I say shortly. I'm still looking down at my fingers. She doesn't say anything. She's waiting for me to continue, I can tell.

"I just- I've never really liked it. I don't like to seem weak." I finally dare to glance towards my therapist. Her expression is calm and comforting.

"I can understand that. But I'm quite sure your family doesn't think of you like that." I stay quiet.

"Does anyone else visit you? Friends, maybe?" She asks. My mind immediately goes to Korsak and Frost's visit 3 months earlier. It was the last time they visited. I shake my head to get rid of the image and focus my eyes back on my hands.

"No." I say. But she senses my hesitation.

"You're lying. It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but I'd prefer it if you would be honest in these sessions." She says. I don't know how she does these things. She makes me feel sorry for something that I used to do every single day to every single person without ever feeling sorry. But now I do feel sorry. I feel guilty for lying to her even though she is my therapist and she gets lied to all the freaking time.

"I'm sorry. Yes, both my partners from work came to visit me." I say, still looking down at my fingers. I watch how the fingers from my right hand curl around those from the left and I watch how they carve little moon-shapes into my palms over and over again.

"Did something happen?" Doctor Isles asks while watching my hands. I stop the movement and jam them firmly into the pockets of my jeans.

"Not really. I-" I stop myself before I can reveal anything. "No. Nothing happened."

"Why did you stop yourself? You are supposed to tell me if something happens in order for you to heal properly." She says. I nod.

"They asked me why I did it. I said that it was an accident. I said that I was fine now. But I don't think that's the reason they stopped visiting." I mumble. I pray to god and everything that is holy to stop this blabbering. I scold myself for feeling so comfortable around someone. For opening up.

"Then what do you think the reason is?" Doctor Isles asks kindly.

"I let them down. I wasn't the strong person they thought I was." I rasp. My voice had never held so much emotion. It is raspy with sadness and wavering with guilt.

"Just because you tried to commit suicide doesn't mean you're not strong. It means you had a moment of weakness, yes. It may even mean that you're still experiencing that moment of weakness but there is no one who doesn't have those moments. If you wouldn't have moment of weakness, you would never really appreciate your strength, would you? But they are moments. And moments end. And when they do, you will be all the stronger because you learned from your mistakes. And also, I do not think that the reason they're not coming anymore is that they don't think you're strong. I think it's because you tried to be strong for them even when you weren't and they're thinking you don't want them here because you don't trust them." She says and even though her voice is calm it blows me away. Because how could she make me feel so much better by saying all of these things that sound so logical in her voice. I want to thank her. I want to do so many things but I can't because the alarm clock rings and I get up and shoot her a thankful look and she shoots me a grateful smile and I walk away.

**XXXXXXXX**

I've never been an easy sleeper. When I was little it would take at least an hour for me to fall asleep. As I got older and my life got busier I became more tired at nights and needed less time to fall asleep. Until Hoyt. After Hoyt there hadn't been a night in which I didn't wake up bathing in sweat. And eventually I just didn't fall asleep anymore. I would lay awake until it was 3 AM and then I would sleep only to wake up from a nightmare around 6 o'clock. And so here I was, 11 PM in my bed. Thinking about everything and nothing and yet every thought involved the therapy session I had earlier. Most of all I'm still surprised by the emotion in my voice when I told her about Korsak and Frost. Because I can count all the times that I've showed any emotion besides anger in front of another human being. And here's this perfect woman that I don't even know and she opened me up like it was nothing. She walked right through all of my walls like they weren't there and I don't even know her first name. It angers me. It angers me so much to know that I mean nothing to her while she means everything to me. It makes me sick to my stomach to realize that to her I'm just one in a 100 while she if like a lifeline to me. I want to scream at her and I want to hug her and I want to talk to her and I want to write her poetry even though everything I write absolutely sucks. I want to love her and I want her to love me but most of all I just wish I had never met her because she complicates everything. Because if I hadn't met her, I could keep on being this unbreakable person and I liked that person and I want to be that person again but I **can't. **Because Doctor Isles broke me.

Doctor Isles broke me.

_A/N: Hope you guys liked it!_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Thoughts are in both italics and bolds(see it like a devil and angel on the shoulder-thingy). Also I want to thank all of you guys for following this story and reviewing and everything and I love you guys so much_

"_**Jane! Did you hear, yet? I got into the police academy!" My little brother yells it at me and I laugh because even though he's already 17, he still acts like he's 12 sometimes.**_

"_**Good job!" I say before giving him a one-armed hug. My mother walks towards us and I lock my jaw, ready for whatever she's going to say.**_

"_**Yes, Jane. Good job. Let him put his life on the line every day just like you do!" She yells at me. I wince a little bit.**_

"_**Oh, and that 's my fault?" I roll my eyes while I say it.**_

"_**Yes it is! You are the one he's trying to imitate!" My mother screams. I walk inside and thank god, my mother follows me. Having a fight with my mother is bad enough without the whole street listening in on it.**_

"_**look, I'm sorry. But I can't help it that he wants to do what I do." I say and I try desperately to express that I really am sorry. But it doesn't work. My mother is angry at me. I let her down.**_

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Hello, Jane. How are you feeling today?" Doctor Isles asks me gently. The urge to let out a humourless chuckle is way too overwhelming. I'm feeling like shit. I'm feeling awful. I'm feeling broken. Because she broke me.

"I'm fine." I say instead. But even I can hear that the words are forced. Pushed out through locked jaws and tense lips.

"You don't sound fine." She says. I want to scream at her. I want to hurt her. I want to break her like she broke me. My mind is split. **It doesn't matter. She doesn't care about you. You can hurt her. It's okay. **_Don't. You like her. Don't hurt her._ I feel the urge to scream. To cry, if I could.

"Brilliant deduction, doctor." I spit out. The battle in my mind goes on. My chest aches. I'm angry.

"It's really not that difficult. It's simply paying attention to people's micro-expressions." She says. Did she really not understand the sarcasm?

"Obviously you have a lot more difficulty picking up sarcasm, don't you?" I say calmly. The battle in my mind is over. The bad side has won. The emotionless, passive-aggressive side that comes out whenever someone tries to hurt me has won. My eyes shoot fire but the rest of me is icy. Dangerously cold. But it's different than all of the other times. I don't feel as in control as I did with the others. I can feel all of my emotions simmering just under the surface. It's frightening.

"I have never been good at picking up sarcasm, no." Doctor Isles says. She sounds almost… embarrassed? It's strange.

"What's your first name?" I say. It's not really a question. It's a demand. I need to know.

"I- Maura. My first name's Maura." She says, looking into my eyes. _Don't hurt her. _

"I'm ready." I growl.

"For what?" She asks. She looks so confused. _Don't hurt her. Don't hurt her. _

"To tell you my diagnosis." I say calmly. I grin mischievously. I see that Doctor Isles has to think to know what I'm talking about, but eventually apprehension sets in and she nods. _Don't hurt her. _**SHUT UP. HURT HER! BREAK HER!**

"Your parents are rich. Filthy, stinking rich. You grew up with wealth. And you were smart. So smart that your peers could never really connect with you. You were the one left behind. The one that never got to play. You were the weird kid." I say all of this while I watch Doctor Isles' eyes grow wider and wider. I can already see the tears bunching up in the corners of her eyes and I hate myself. I hate myself so god-damn much and it's all because she **broke **me. I'm no longer icily angry. I am uncontrolled like fire. Like rage. "You had NO friends. You had NO ONE. And so you became a FUCKING therapist because you thought you could help people. BUT YOU DON'T. You're not helping ANYONE." I scream and yell and my heart aches and it beats a hundred times faster than it's supposed to. and it hurts so much to see the look on her face. She looks broken. She's crying and I'm so, so sorry. I want to say it. I want to touch her. I want to tell her that I've never felt as sorry as I'm feeling right now. That this is the worst thing I've ever done. But I can't. So instead I get up and I walk away. And she just sits there small and crying and **broken**. Because of me. Because I broke her. I broke Maura Isles.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

In the hospital everyone knows that there are ways to get out of going to bullshit-classes. There are excuses you can make. But there is only one excuse that works for more than one class a day. And everyone knows what it is. It is also the most dangerous thing you can possibly use.

"I don't feel up to it." I mumble. They write it down. It's the first time I've used it. I never thought that I'd get to this. The sentence is written down and the date is set next to it. It's an indication. If you're not feeling up to spending a couple of hours around other people doing 'fun and educational' activities, then how would you survive spending day after day in society? So basically I'm setting myself up for extra time in here. But I don't care. Not anymore. I'm sick. Broken. I shouldn't be going back to society. I don't belong there. And for the first time since I'm in here, I accept that I belong in here. I belong with all the crazy, fucked up people society has to offer. The nurse nods and makes a few more notes. He extends his hand to put it on my shoulder but I flinch so he pulls back.

"That's okay. You go get some rest." He says gently. I look at him. I turn around and I walk away.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

The funny thing about the hospital is that it's always 80 °F in every single room. So it's easy to forget what season it is or how warm it is outside. So I'm almost surprised when I come onto the roof in a t-shirt and jeans and find that it is actually late in February and it's incredibly cold. But I don't go back inside to get a jacket. I just walk to my corner and sit down. I look out at the cars and the people and I wish, not for the first time, that I could cry. But the tears won't come and so I just sit there and I watch everything go by without me and I've never felt more alone.

_A/N: It may seem like Jane is being a complete asshole here but you have to understand that Jane and vulnerability? Yeah, doesn't go so well. I think that Jane is the kind of person that would really lash out if she became vulnerable. That combined with her sort of depression gives for a lot of bad decisions. But it'll be okay._


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Hey, here's the next update. It will get a little better here and it will probably go better from here on. I'm not saying there aren't going to be rocky bits, but I really think it's going to get a lot more fluffy in the upcoming few chapters._

_Also, the Guest that posted this review: **i hope you will not be like those writers who have good stories but dont update for about weeks and even months. or worse, they dont continue anymore. i hope you'll finish this because it really has a strong storyline and a good plot which is refreshing and exciting! :) good luck on your work! we'll wait. but if it would take you longer time to finish a chapter, it's okay take your time. :)**_

_First of all, thanks! And second of all, I'll try not to be one of thos writers. I'm trying to write a couple of chapters ahead so when I get writers block I can still post a chapter if needed. _

_Disclaimer: Don't own the characters blabla_

"_**Hey, Janie! This was delivered to the front desk for you." My little brother comes into the bullpen and hands me an envelope. I take it without thinking. It must be the 30 hours of consecutive work that has stumped my brain because I should know that this is evidence. But I don't think. I just open the small envelope and drop the contents on my desk. When my sleep-deprived brain finally registers what I'm seeing, I immediately jump away from the desk. I can feel bile rising from my stomach.**_

"_**Jane? What's that?" Korsak asks me. I can't reply. I just look at him with despair in my eyes. I look back to the bloody scalpel on my desk and take the bucket Frankie is holding for me just in time. I empty my stomach from the little content it had. I hear Korsak's gasp when he sees what it is, but I can't look up. I get dizzy.**_

"_**Jane? Janie!" I hear my brother yell, but I can't reply. I try to focus on his face but I can't. I feel my legs giving out and I feel a set of strong arms around me just before I pass out.**_

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

The good thing about the best excuse is that if you used it once, you can use it several more times in the following weeks without people getting suspicious. Because depression doesn't go away after a couple of days. So when march rolled in, I still found myself on the roof during day-time. And it is in early march that I see her again.

I hear her footsteps even before she starts talking. I sit with my back towards the door so I can't see her and I don't turn around. I just keep on looking down at the world and hoping that she doesn't hate me.

"I've said this before, but you really shouldn't sit in the cold without a jacket like this." She says. Her voice is clear and soft and it wraps around me like a blanket. But I know she can't be like this because I broke her and she'll leave so I roll my shoulders a bit, trying to get rid of the warm feeling so when it inevitably leaves and never comes back, it will feel like it was my choice all along. It will feel like it wasn't her that left me. It was me that chose to stop seeing her. It doesn't work.

"What are you doing here?" I mumble without looking up at her. She has walked over to me now. She sits down next to me and I can't help but realize that she didn't hesitate this time. She just sat down on the filthy ground even though I know that her dress probably costs more than my entire wardrobe together. And of course I feel guilty, because Maura Isles should not have to lower herself to my level. But she does and I can't help the warm flutter in my stomach.

"I'm your therapist, Jane." She says and I know that she's also seeing the similarities with the last time we sat here and I almost laugh at it, but the humourless chuckle dies in my chest. So I just stare at the ground, trying to come up with something. I want to say that I'm sorry. I want to apologize and beg her to treat me again and I want to tell her all the things I've never told anybody, but I don't.

"No, you're not. I won the bet." I say instead. I want to hit myself for saying something so overwhelmingly stupid. I close my eyes and lock my jaw for a second. **God, you're an idiot. **I whisper to myself. "I don't need a therapist." I add and I am honestly considering that there is a brain-eating worm stuck in my head because I cannot possibly be this stupid.

"Jane, look at me." She says. I do. I look up into her eyes that are constantly changing colour and I can't help but be captivated by them. I study the way the hazel hues turn to green with a golden twinkle in it. Her eyes are like the picnic at the beginning of the autumn where me and my brothers used to search for hazelnuts on the ground. They're like jumping into the piles of leaves my mother had raked. They are like coming inside after taking my brother to the park and finally getting the ability to feel back in my fingers. They are everything. She smiles at me. She too felt the change in the air. It's like speaking out loud will break this moment. So we don't.

"It's okay to need someone. Everybody needs someone." She whispers. I try to forget about needing her. I try to tell her that I'm okay. I'm fine. Eventually I manage to nod, but I don't say anything. I just look out over the city that I've lived in my whole life, trying to come up with something to say. After a while I turn my head to look at her.

"I'm sorry." I finally whisper. Maura smiles again and puts her hand on my arm. To me, it feels like her hand belongs there. Like my arm was specially made so she could put her hand on top of it. She squeezes softly and I cannot think of any other place where I'd rather be than here.

"It's okay, Jane." She says and I can see that she means it and to be honest I'm a little bit confused. Because I broke her. I saw her cry. And she just **forgives **me? The confusion must show on my face, because Maura speaks again.

"The other therapists told me about your sessions with them." She says. I look up, still confused, but she goes on. "They all told me the exact same thing. All three of them told me that the scariest thing about all of it was that you stayed so calm. You knew all of these things about them that they had barely even realized themselves and you presented it to them with this nonchalance. It seemed like you didn't even care. Like you didn't feel. I was so surprised when I heard that. Because you weren't like that at all when you confronted me. At first you were. You were controlled and it was a little bit scary, to be honest. But after that, somewhere, you just lost control. And you got really, really angry. And that means that something has changed. It means that something is different now. It means that you have indeed made progress." Maura looks at me while she says all of this. She looks proud and my heart starts beating a little faster, because I made that happen. But then the words register and I snort.

"Yeah, what great progress I made. I am no longer in control of my own emotions." I say sarcastically, but then I remember that Maura can't pick up sarcasm so I quickly add, "that was sarcasm." Maura beams at me. She smiles at me like I just gave her a real-life present instead of an explanation of my own words. I can't help but be happy with myself for a couple of seconds.

"Actually I think you just started to show your emotions some more and there is nothing wrong with that. It's a good thing that you're opening up a bit." She says softly. I smile a bit and look back towards the city. I imagine Maura going home to a big, empty house at night and even though it hurts to think about it, I still hope that she has a husband or a boyfriend because Maura shouldn't be alone.

"Thanks." I say. I desperately hope that she hears all the words I'm not saying. I hope she knows that I'm not just saying thanks for her coming up here. I'm saying thanks for everything she's done and I hope she can hear that. She looks at me and her smile widens a bit. I think she understands.

"No problem, Jane. I would like for further sessions to be inside the building, though. The temperature is considerably more enjoyable there." She says while rubbing her own arms. She looks more adorable than I have ever seen her. I suppress the urge to wrap my arms around her. Instead I chuckle and nod.

"That sounds like a good idea. Wouldn't want you to get sick, now would we?" I tease. Maura smirks a bit.

"We wouldn't." She says while standing up. "Our next appointment is in 2 days if I'm not mistaken. At 3 PM. Don't be late." Maura tells me before turning towards the door and walking away, leaving me with nothing but my thoughts and the cold evening air that surrounds me. And for a second I think about how similar this is to the night on the roof after I broke Maura, but then I realize that it's not. Because there is one big difference. Now, I am not alone. I'm not alone anymore.

_A/N: Okay, hope you guys liked that. Please review if you did and look out for the next update!_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Okay, another chap. I just want to say that the flashbacks are totally random. They do have something to do with something in the story, but they may not have anything to do with the current chapter. Just so you know. _

"_**Jane, I can't do this. We've been dating for 3 months. 3 MONTHS! And you haven't told a single person about us. You don't want to go out because you're scared someone will see us. I thought you loved your family so much, then why don't you trust them to love you back?" Melanie yells at me. We're having this conversation for the 5**__**th**__** time this month. I know because I counted. I know because I hate myself for every single one of them.**_

"_**Please, Mel. I'm sorry. I just- I need some more time. I'll tell my parents about us, I will!" I beg. I never beg. But I'll do anything. **_

"_**More time for what? I can't wait forever, Jane. I'm sorry, but this is over. We're over." She says. It's weird that a few words can do so much damage. Because I see my world crumble. People will tell you that 3 months is too short to know that you love someone more than you love yourself, but that's bullshit. It happened to me. Melanie turned around and walked towards the door. She didn't look back, but I could see from her stance that she was crying. **_

"_**Melanie, Please!" I whisper, but I know she can hear me. She doesn't turn around. She just keeps on walking and she opens the door. She's walking away.**_

"_**Melanie, I LOVE YOU!" I yell it at her. It's the first time I'm saying it to her. It feels liberating. It's the truth. God, it's more true than anything else I've ever said. But she still doesn't turn around. **_

"_**I'm sorry, Jane." She just whispers. And my heart crumbles all over again and she leaves and she closes the door softly and I collapse onto the floor. And it feels like nothing I've ever felt before. It's like my whole chest is empty. It feels like nothing in the world will mean anything anymore. And in that moment, right there, I vow to protect the broken pieces of my heart better than I had before. I promise to myself that I will build it back up and I will protect it so that it will never break again.**_

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

If someone had told me 2 months ago that I would start to enjoy it in the mental hospital, I would have given them a humourless chuckle and a shrug. But here I am, 7 weeks since Maura came to talk to me on the roof and the last few weeks had been so good. I talk to Maura twice a week. We've talked about Hoyt in more detail, we've talked about the nightmares, my family, my work and so many other things. What we didn't talk about is why I'm in here. We haven't said a single word about the emptiness inside me and the constant pain that drove me to do what I did. I know Maura wants to talk about it, I can see it in her eyes. I also know that she would never make me talk about something I don't want to talk about and right now, there's nothing I would hate more than talking about the thoughts and emotions that almost put an end to my life and which are still swirling around in my head. My reluctance to talk about it probably has some deep meaning which Maura would give me a very extensive speech on would I happen to ask her. I smile at the thought of her google-talk as I've started calling it. But then again it isn't like Maura Isles leaves my thoughts a lot anymore. Of course I know that she's my therapist and that she, more importantly, is a woman. I know that she's beautiful and accomplished and smart and I'm an ex-detective with an altered mental state and I could never even come close to being good enough for her. But I can't switch off these thoughts no matter how hard I try. And believe me, I have tried.

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

"I have some good news before you leave, Jane." Maura spoke up just as I was about to stand up from my seat. I looked back at her and sat back down with a curious look on my face.

"The hospital has informed me that since you are finally healing you can 'take a day' as they call it. This would mean that you get to go outside for a day..." I feel my whole chest getting warmer as the words register. I want to nod and smile, but Maura continues talking so I wait. "…as long as the person that has signed to put you in here accompanies you all day and you report back at 8PM." She says cheerfully. The warmness in my chest leaves and the usual cold comes back. There is no way in hell(aka this place) that I'm asking my mother to spend the day with me. I didn't even like spending time with her before I got into this place and since the attempt on my own life she has been treating me like I'm some sort of fragile little doll. It annoys me more than anything else ever could. Maura must see how I lock my jaw and my eyes go back to their dull and dark state.

"You-you're not happy to get out for a day?" She asks. I look up because she sounds so **sorry**. Like she is actually hurt that she can't make me happy with this. I give her a weak smile. Every fibre in my body is screaming at me to make it right. To wipe that sad look off her face no matter what it takes.

"No, I am! I truly am. I'm just not really thrilled at the prospect of spending the whole day with my mom." I say with what's supposed to look like an amused smirk though I'm sure it looks more like a frown. **SMILE, you idiot. **The voice in my head screams. It's not working. Maura smiles comfortingly.

"I understand. Is there anyone else you would like to go with it? Perhaps your brother?" She asks. I don't even have to think to know that there is someone I would like to go with. What I hadn't expected myself to do was blurt it out.

"I wouldn't mind going with you." I say quickly. For a second I look around, thinking who the hell could have said that because I can't possibly be this stupid. Then I realize that I am. I am that stupid. I blink a couple of times before quickly adding, "No! I don't- I'm not—I don't mean that I want- I just thought that, you know, you are certified and stuff. And y'know my brother has a really busy schedule and-"

"Jane!" Her voice cuts me off and I look up from the floor tentatively to find her smiling amusedly down at me. But there's something else in her eyes. It's like… it's not embarrassment, but not quite like she's flattered either. I can't define it. And is that a **blush** on her perfectly freckled cheeks? I am so completely confused by her reaction that I don't hear what she's saying.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" I mumble. Maura blushes deeper. She blushes and it is my new favourite thing.

"I said that I could go with you. I wouldn't want to keep you from having a nice day out and-" She starts but before she can finish I've already wrapped my arms around her because she has just given me the best present anyone could ever give me and I'm thankful and to be quite honest hugging her is the best thing that ever happened to me. For a second after I hug her it seems like she's going to pull away but then she wraps her arms around my waist and I think I hear her utter a small, almost inaudible sigh and my heart feels warmer than it ever has. So even though I know that a hug between a therapist and her patient shouldn't take any longer than a couple of seconds I can't seem to pull away. And Maura just stays there until I eventually step away from her and clear my throat awkwardly.

"Thanks." I rasp. She smiles comfortingly though I can see a new blush on her cheeks. By now I've already put a blushing Maura as number two of my favourite things. Just behind hugging Maura.

"You're welcome, Jane." She says and my heart beats faster at the tiny tremble in her voice. But I kick myself for it because this is Maura freaking Isles and she's amazing and kind and way too good for me and **oh god, **I'm falling in love with her. I freeze and I take a quick peek at her and I know. I know that I am falling and I close my eyes and I lock my jaw and I make a promise to myself. **I will not break. I will not fall any further. **But then she gets this slightly confused look on her face and she tilts her head slightly and I am already failing. So I just nod at her and smile a bit and walk away. I just have to build back up. I just have to make sure that I don't break when I fall and I can do that and I **won't **break.

I will not break.

_A/N: Okay, hope you liked that. Next chapter will probably be stocked with fluff. _


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: So there's a couple of things I want to say before you start reading this chapter. First of all, there's no flashback. I just felt like it wasn't really necessary because a lot of the things of Jane's past will come up in the next few chapters. Second of all I need all of you guys to realize that yes, Jane will lash out at Maura over small things and yes she will get panic attacks over even smaller things. I'm writing this story a lot from personal experience and one thing I know is that sometimes the voices and the things happening around you can just be very overwhelming, even if it doesn't seem like that to other people. The last thing I want to say is that what Jane is feeling towards Maura is not at all strange. A lot of people fall in love with their therapists because they are(or seem) very often the only person that is interested in the patient's life. And even though this story will be eventual Rizzles I think you guys should remember that that is not at all realistic. In a normal situation, falling in love with your therapist is most likely a reaction to the attention they are giving you. In most cases it will surely NOT be reciprocated. And a good therapist will recognize the signs and try to explain that it is simply a reaction to their genuine interest in the problems the patient is experiencing._

It's a Wednesday when we're going out. Exactly 7 days after we made the appointment. Maura had said she would make some arrangements for the day that she thought I would enjoy. I had never had a harder time keeping my mind out of the gutter. But now that I see her I have an idea what we're going to do and my heart swells and my whole chest gets warm because she is wearing a red sox jersey and it looks more beautiful on her than it has ever looked on anyone else. So I walk up to her smiling more brightly than I have in a long time and I have to suppress the urge to hug her. But I do. Because hugging Maura may be the single most dangerous thing I've ever let myself do and I will not let myself do it again if I can stop it. So we just stand there a bit awkwardly until she smiles at me and I feel all of the tension slide of my shoulders. I am with Maura and I'm going back to the outside and I'm going to see the red sox play. So I smile back.

"We should go." Maura says before walking towards the exit of the hospital. I can't help but smile again. This is going to be a good day.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

When you were in a mental hospital economy and money were two of the last things on your mind. it was quite easy to forget that things in the real world cost money. So it took me about 20 minutes to remember that game tickets are actually expensive.

"Wait. Aren't game tickets pretty expensive?" I ask, trying not to sound ungrateful. Maura glances at me before fixing her eyes back on the road in front of us. I found out that Maura drives a blue Prius.

"I have some connections." Maura smirks a bit, but she's also licking her lips. When Maura licks her lips it either means she is not telling you the whole truth or she's talking about something she doesn't want to talk about. She doesn't do either one of those things a lot which is why it took me more than it should have to figure out what her tell was. But now I know. So I know that she probably still paid unnecessary amounts of money for this. I can't stop the warm feeling that is taking over not only my chest, but also my arms and legs. And the urge to sigh half happily and half desperately intensifies because how can I not fall for this woman. I shake my head to get rid of the thought.

"Thank you." I say with the tiniest smile. Maura smiles back so brightly that my own smile can't help but widen. And then I can see Fenway in the distance and the child-like excitement that always comes from a baseball game ignites inside me. And Maura must see the change in me because she lets out a small chuckle and shakes her head slightly as she pulls up to a parking spot.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"You got us field box tickets?!" I ask incredulously. Of course it's a bit of a strange question considering we are in them, but I can't help it. She didn't just get us tickets to see one of the biggest games of the year(the Sox are playing the Yankees today), but she got us the best seats in the whole damn stadium. Maura looks a bit confused though.

"Well, it said on the internet that these were the best seats." She says with a small head-tilt. "But I can probably arrange for us to sit somewhere else if you would prefer that?" She quickly adds, looking down at the tickets with a hint of disappointment in her eyes.

"No! The seats are perfect, really! It's just—I can never repay you for all of this." I say, already feeling the blush rising in my cheeks. Maura chuckles, though.

"Oh, there will be no need to repay me, Jane. It's a nice chance to do something I wouldn't do normally." She says while putting her hand on my shoulder.

"Wait… You've never been to a baseball game before?" I ask her incredulously.

"I can't say I have. My parents have never been interested in sports and I never really had anyone in my life that I could share it with." She says and my heart breaks at the thought of this woman not having anyone. So even though she is my therapist and I'm falling for her and I know that she can have anyone in the world and I am not a member of society anymore I promise to myself that no matter what, I will do anything I can to make this woman happy.

"I'm proud to be the one that accompanies you to your first baseball game then." I say with a smile.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Soon enough I find out that pride is only one of many things I am feeling. Because if Maura Isles at a baseball game is not the most adorable thing ever than I don't know what is. The first 20 minutes I could see the thoughtful frown on her face. The little wrinkle between her eyes indicating that she was probably trying to figure out how exactly the game worked. I had told her to relax. I had smiled at her and told her to just try to relax and be happy. And she did. Soon enough she was cheering just as loudly as the other people in the stadium and now? Now she's eating her very first hotdog while looking at me with eyes widened in surprise that something so cheap and 'normal' can be so tasteful. I just smile down at her and suppress the urge to wipe away the tiny smudge of mustard in the corner of her mouth. And she smirks back and takes another bite while turning her eyes back to the field. I continue to examine her profile and watch the excitement on her face. It's mesmerizing. She's mesmerizing. But instead of telling her this, I tear my eyes from her perfect face and focus back on the game. To be completely honest I haven't watched a full minute of the entire game and still I can't think of a baseball game better than this one. Because this one wasn't spend watching the game, it was spend watching Maura watch the game. And that beats a baseball game any day.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

When I was young, my parents would always fight about money. They would fight about almost anything, but somehow every argument ended with being about money. There was just never enough. Don't get me wrong, I did not grow up in poverty. I just grew up knowing that there was always an end to the things you could buy and for the Rizzoli family that end came quite soon. Combine that with my complete lack of dates over the past couple of years and I can safely say that I have never been in a fancy restaurant. Well, I could easily say that. But as of 5 minutes ago, I can no longer. Because right now, I am sitting in not just a fancy restaurant. I am sitting in a restaurant where the appetizers cost more than an entire meal costs at the restaurants I would go to with my family across of the most beautiful woman in the entire world. And that's not all. Because even though I'm sure that the dress-code for places like this does not include Red Sox Jerseys and jeans and I'm sure that Maura never violates a restaurant's dress-code, Maura hasn't changed in between the game and the restaurant. And it is perfect. Of course it would have been perfect no matter where we would've gone but we went here and it's perfect and I'm happy. I look up to see Maura smiling brightly at me before taking a sip of her wine. I look at my own, still full, glass. To be completely honest, I can't have alcohol. My medication was changed only two days ago and I'm sure Maura doesn't know about it.

"If you don't like wine, you can order something else." Maura asks me, a hint of hesitancy in her voice. I look up and smile reassuringly at her. I look back at the glass and try to forget about all of the warnings my doctor gave me when he prescribed the new medication. **Just drink it, you idiot. She's going to think she's done something wrong. **

"What's wrong, Jane?" Maura's voice breaks through my thoughts once again and I look up at her. **Good going, asshole. **

"Well, I-um… I can't really drink. My medication was changed two days ago." I explain quietly and I can see the guilt on Maura's face. **I hate you.**

"I know." I whisper to the voice in my head. Maura looks up, though.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" She asks me, looking confused. I shake my head violently.

"No, nothing. I was just talking to myself. It's okay about the wine, though. I'll just drink the water." I say, gesturing at the glass of water next to my wine. Maura doesn't seem satisfied.

"Really? Because I can order you something else. I can order a coke or a soda or something or maybe they have some alcohol-free beer and-" Maura rants and I can see from the look in her eyes that she's panicking and I can't help the flutter in my stomach because Maura Isles is panicking and it's all just because of me. But then I quickly dismiss that thought and interrupt her.

"Maura! It's okay. I'm good with the water. But thanks." I say while squeezing her hand, trying to convey that it is okay. She calms down a bit and looks down at the table. I quickly pull my hand away and she looks up with a hint of disappointment in her eyes. She opens her mouth to say something, but the waiter approaches us before she can say anything. He hands the both of us a menu and asks us if we want another drink in his delicious French accent. I shake my head and Maura smiles politely before mirroring my movement. The waiter nods and leaves us to check the menus. I look at it and immediately feel my heart drop in my stomach. I have absolutely no idea what any of these dishes are. **Maura is going to be so embarrassed with you. She hates you. I hate you. **The voice whispers and I shake my head to get rid of it. I look back at the menu and my panic only grows when I realise that everything has fancy French names which I am a 100% sure I will not pronounce correctly. I try to remember to breathe. In and out and in and out and in and out and-

"Jane? Are you okay?" Maura says, but the words barely get through the wool-like barrier that seems to lie between my senses and my brain. I blink and blink and blink, trying to get the spots out of my vision so that I can look into those hazel-green-gold eyes. It's not working. **Breathe. Blink. Focus. She hates you. I hate you. I hate you. I HATE YOU. **The voice starts screaming and it's filling my head. I furrow my brow and intently stare at the table-top and shake my head. The screaming doesn't seize. It keeps getting louder and louder and it stops. It stops because all of a sudden there is a warm hand on my arm and I'm looking up into concerned eyes and a soft voice is telling me to calm down and take deep breathes and come back to the real world. So I breathe with her and I feel the panic ebb away. The voice calms down a bit and I blush, looking down at my hands. Soft fingers under my chin lift my eyes up and I meet Maura's again.

"Jane. Having panic attacks is a very normal thing to experience in your situation and they can be triggered by seemingly small things. It's okay." She says with such sincerity that I can't not believe her. So I just nod and keep staring into her eyes until she looks to the ground and removes her fingers from my chin. She leans back into her chair and smiles at me.

"So, do you know what triggered your attack, Jane?" Maura asks like one would ask about the weather. I blush furiously.

"I… I'm not really the fancy restaurant-type. I have no idea what any of these dishes are." I whisper, staring intently at the menu until I feel a small hand squeezing mine. I look up and see Maura staring almost guiltily at me.

"I'm sorry I took you to a place where you feel uncomfortable, Jane. If you want-" Maura starts, but I cut her off.

"No!" I say forcefully. "It's fine. Better than fine. I just need some help figuring out what the dishes are. If you don't mind, I mean." I rush to add. Maura's face breaks into a huge smile, lighting up the whole room. I beam back before looking back at the menu again. And Maura tells me which dishes are which and she tries to teach me how to pronounce the French names and I do it wrong on purpose so she laughs. And every time she laughs I fall a little more in love with her.

_A/N: Hope you guys liked it! The 'date' will continue into the next chapter. _


End file.
